


Daffodils & Forget-Me-Nots

by destieldrabblesdaily



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:19:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6332467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destieldrabblesdaily/pseuds/destieldrabblesdaily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this text post: ‘Soulmate AU where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever the hell you want, it will show up on your soulmate’s skin as well.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daffodils & Forget-Me-Nots

“Tell your boss that we’ve got no deal, Winchester! Better luck next time… Or not.”

Dean flinched as Gordon Walker got up from his seat, gathering his laptop and coat before rushing out of the crowded coffee shop without giving Dean so much as a second look.

_Well, crap_.

Zachariah was not going to be amused, that was a given. Dean sighed, burying his head in his hands, angrily brushing his thumbs against his temples. Apparently it was Douchebag Day; somehow all of Dean’s meetings had resulted in nothing but frustration and disappointment. Which, truth be told, said more about the sort of clients that Zachariah loved to work with than it said about Dean’s skills.

Dean tiredly dropped his arms, rolling up one of his sleeves and staring at the smudged writing on his wrist.

_‘Lunch meeting FROM HELL with Walker Enterprises, 1pm @ Bagels & Beans.’_

He rubbed the skin with his index finger until the little reminder was gone altogether.

So Dean was a bit chaotic at times, sue him. Luckily, he always had a pen with him, for obvious reasons, so it only took him a second to quickly write down his appointments or other vitally important stuff that he needed to remember. He was already rolling down the sleeve of his dress shirt again, when he felt a warm glow that was comforting in its familiarity.

Dean smiled to himself when just below his wrist, a thin green line appeared on his freckled skin. _Ah_ , it would seem that Castiel’s lunch break had started. The line elegantly curled along the inside of Dean’s arm, then slowly changed its color, going from a violet blue to a warm yellow, until Dean’s skin was covered in flowers.

Heart fluttering, Dean remembered. Daffodils and Forget-Me-Nots. The first drawing that Castiel had ever painted on his skin, seven years ago. They’d both been shy back then, not to mention a tad skeptical about this whole soulmate business.

In fact, when Dean had turned twenty-one and was finally able to write to his soulmate, he had put it off for months. For one because he was scared, but also because he wasn’t exactly a believer. It was one year later that his soulmate had been bold enough to make that first move himself, and a breathtaking work of art had suddenly appeared on the back of Dean’s hand while he’d been in class.

After Castiel had been brave enough to take that first step, it had all gone very fast. Dean had been intrigued, and he’d written many questions to Cas, eager to get to know him. Cas had responded to all of them, and Dean had answered Castiel’s questions in return, until two short months later, they’d decided to meet.

Upon first seeing the blue eyed beauty that he was supposedly destined to be with, Dean’s doubts had disappeared within a heartbeat. The feeling had been mutual, and they’d traded their first kisses on a sunny afternoon in that park where they’d originally planned to only have a simple first chat. The rest, as cliché would have it, was history.

Dean snorted when on the palm of his hand, a messy doodle of a bee appeared in yellow and black, followed by the word ‘Happy’. _Bee happy_. He rolled his eyes, picking up his pen and writing ‘ _dork_ ’ on his palm, knowing that Cas would see it. Granted, having a boyfriend who was an art teacher would probably never get boring.

There was no reply after that, and Dean figured that Cas’ break was over.

Speaking of which, Dean knew that it was time to get his ass moving as well, to go back to the office to break the bad news to his boss. _Awesome._

He put on his jacket and chose not to drink the rest of his -undoubtedly cold- coffee, when the sound of his cellphone made him freeze.

_‘Zachariah Adler calling’,_ the screen helpfully supplied.

Dean muttered a defeated ‘shit’ under his breath before reluctantly picking up, exasperatedly falling back into his chair.

“Mr. Adler, hi.” He greeted through gritted teeth, feigning cheerfulness.

_“Winchester! How did it go with Walker? Is he on board?”_

“I’m eh… I’m working on it.” Dean lied, his fingers tightening around his phone, knuckles turning white.

_“Right.”_ Adler retorted, clearly not convinced. _“We’ll talk about that later. It’s been brought to my attention that Fergus Crowley is in town, if we can get him on board instead, we might not even need Walker. I called him, and he’s staying at the Plaza hotel. He’s willing to negotiate with our company, but he specifically requested that it be you who talks to him.”_

Dean prayed that his groan could only be heard in his mind. Of course that asshole would request _that_. Last time when Dean had met him to make a deal, all Crowley had been interested in was _Dean_. Even when Dean had calmly informed the guy that he’d already met the love of his life, Crowley had refused to back off. Eventually, Dean had left before their talk had even ended, but yeah, he preferred to avoid another disaster like that.

_“Winchester? Are you even listening?”_ Adler pressed.

With a frustrated huff, Dean realized that he sadly had no other option here. This thing with Walker was never going to work out, and this could be his last chance to save his job.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I will go meet him.” Dean replied mechanically.

_“Good. The Plaza Hotel at seven, he will meet you there for drinks. Use that questionable charm of yours if you have to, anything to get him to invest in the Shurley deal.”_

A brief silence.

_“And Winchester?”_

Dean croaked out a pathetic “uh huh?”

_“Don’t screw it up.”_

A beeping noise was all that followed, and Dean put down the phone with a roll of his eyes, picking up his pen, scribbling down a few words on the back of his wrist to ensure that he wouldn’t forget the appointment that could save his ass.

_‘Important meeting with Creeper Crowley, the Plaza @ 7pm. Yikes!’_

Dean was so not looking forward to that. On top of everything, Dean’s soul was aching a little, as always unhappy to be separated from its other half for too long.

The words _‘stay safe, Dean’_ , written across his arm seconds later, made the situation a bit more bearable.

This shitty day couldn’t be over soon enough; all Dean wanted was to go home and be with the guy he loved.

~

Meeting Crowley was exactly what Dean had expected; the guy was still a dick, still unreasonable, and still didn’t understand that hitting on Dean was absolutely pointless.

Dean tried to pay attention to whatever the hell Crowley was talking about, but his head was hurting, he was getting tired, and by now waiters carrying plates of food were passing right and left, making Dean’s stomach growl, distracting him even more. Regardless, he’d rather starve than have dinner with this jerk.

“So, what do you say, Dean Winchester? You give _me_ a chance, and in return I promise to give your company a chance.” Crowley proposed after talking Dean’s ear off for nearly an hour. “I can guarantee you that Adler would be pleased with you if you took the deal.”

It might have been the exhaustion, or that migraine waiting to happen. Dean didn’t care either way, picking up his glass of wine and throwing it right in Crowley’s face.

“I’m taken, dickhead. I’ve told you plenty of times.” Dean snapped, glaring at a baffled looking Crowley. “I came here to talk business, and if you don’t wanna do that, nothing is happening.”

For the second time that day, someone walked out on Dean. Crowley got up, using a napkin to clean his face while spitting threats at Dean.

“I will personally get you fired! After I’ve had a chat with your boss and all of my other acquaintances, you’ll be stuck picking up garbage for the rest of your miserable life!”

“I’d rather be picking up garbage than dating it.” Dean smugly shot back, knowing that his job was a lost cause anyway; he no longer had to pretend.

Crowley threw more insults as he stomped off, and Dean could breathe again once he was out of sight.

“Great job, Winchester.” He sarcastically uttered to himself, slumping against the back of his chair.

Rolling up his sleeve to erase the note that was a painful reminder of this meeting gone wrong, he was surprised to find another note right beside it, as well as a heart that was way too complex for something so tiny.

_‘Smile for me, Dean.’_

Letting out a weak laugh, Dean did as he was told, even though Cas couldn’t see him. He took another deep breath when he noticed that Castiel was writing again.

_‘Look to your left.’_

Dean frowned, but again obeyed, glancing over his shoulder, spotting a table in the corner next to the floor length window. Sitting there was Cas, grinning at him, holding up a single red rose, hair messy but wearing a nice pair of jeans and a dark blue sweater that matched his eyes. Gaping at his boyfriend, Dean felt how his skin was glowing again, two short words staring back at him.

_‘Found you.’_

Nearly tripping over his own feet, Dean made his way to Cas’ table. Castiel didn’t miss a beat, getting up and taking Dean into his arms, holding him there as he kissed Dean’s jaw, then his cheek.

“I suspected that you would enjoy a nice fancy dinner after the day you’ve had.” Castiel whispered into Dean’s ear in a casual tone. “And when we go home after, I will make you forget all about your job.”

Dean’s soul instantly felt whole again, and so did Dean himself. He ignored his phone when Zachariah called, and hardly felt bad about it. Instead he enjoyed the food, sharing stories with Cas as they switched between watching each other and gazing at the dancing city lights.

It was during dessert that Dean fumbled his pen out of his pocket, feeling ashamed as he wrote something on the back of his hand, something that he needed to get off his chest. Curious blue eyes watched him while he did it.

_‘I’m a loser, Cas. I think I lost my job.’_

Castiel didn’t speak, gently prying the pen from Dean’s fingers and writing a reply on his own hand. The only reply that mattered.

_‘I love you, Dean.’_

**Author's Note:**

> For more Destiel stories, go to destieldrabblesdaily.tumblr.com


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